Where Are You Christmas?
by SvendalMunch
Summary: Marianne Lafayatte decides to remain at the castle for the Holiday's to avoid confrontation with her ex, Roland Fafner, and his family. She finds she's not the only one that doesn't seem to be feeling the Christmas Spirit. Hogwarts AU. Strange Magic characters only (except maybe teachers). ButterflyBog. On going.
1. Bah Humbug

The soft chill of winter breezed through the castle corridors. Students hurried to get to their final classes before they could scurry home for the holidays. The castle was a light with christmas cheer and everyone seemed to have taken in the spirit of the season. Well, not quite everyone…

Marianne Lafayette scowled as she yanked her robe more closely around her, heading for the Great Hall. Oh how she hated the cold. It was her least favorite time of year. All the snow and chill, everyone giddy and filled with nauseating amounts of "love and joy." The whole thing was tired and downright sickening. Now, Marianne liked a good bit of holiday warmth, but year after year of watching couples use the time of year as an excuse to shove their "love" down everyones throats? No thank you.

Marianne Lafayette scowled as she yanked her robe more closely around her, heading for the Great Hall. Oh how she hated the cold. It was her least favorite time of year. All the snow and chill, everyone giddy and filled with nauseating amounts of "love and joy." The whole thing was tired and downright sickening. Now, Marianne liked a good bit of holiday warmth, but year after year of watching couples use the time of year as an excuse to shove their "love" down everyones throats? No thank you.

At sixteen, the young Gryffindor was scorned by love's sting. At a very young age, she had fallen desperately and foolishly in love with a childhood friend named Roland Fafner. He was handsome boy whose family had moved to Godric's Hallow from America when Marianne was only six. The families had hit it off immediately. Both were pure bloods, both rich and powerful old wizarding families, and both sets of parents were distinguished members of the community. The Fafner's had been particularly supportive when Marianne's mother had died…

She had grown up with Roland and had a crush on him. He was very handsome and charming, but he wasn't much else. Marianne was young and foolish and fell for the way his hair bounced softly above his brow and his toothy smile and his twanging accent. At the time, they were all pretty valid reasons. When they entered Hogwarts, they were sorted into the same house and in their third year, become a couple.

Unfortunately, Roland was more than just handsome and charming. He was a manipulative, sexiest, unworthy, cheating, lying little git. Those would be a few words she'd use anyway. He spent of their relationship trying to convince her that girls shouldn't be tough, they shouldn't play qudditch, they should become wives of the house and support their rich, successful husbands. The icing on the cake was, last year, Marianne had planned to ask him to the yule ball with a boutonniere she'd made herself out of beautiful primroses, only to find him making out with Aldrina Shaw behind the statue of the one eyed witch.

Marianne had been closed off ever since. The idea of love was almost repulsive to her now. She had lived so many years forgetting who she was and the thing's she wanted. She decided to stop caring what men thought and to be whoever she wanted. But, sadly, it had made her bitter and cold toward most. She was top of her class in dueling, had an aptitude for defense magic and a natural inclination for herbology, and she was a fantastic flyer. Not that she'd play for the house team while Roland still had a spot on it. Too bad to. She could fly circles around him. She had always supposed she could try out for beater and let a few stray bludgers…

"Oh Marianne!"

The familiar shrill sing song voice of Marianne's younger sister rung through the mostly empty corridor. A playful eye roll and smile crossed her face. As much as her sisters love sick flirting made her want to vomit, she loved her sister dearly. "What are you doing? Shouldn't you be in charms?" Marianne scolded.

Dawn glowered at her before crossing her arms, her short blond locks bouncing. "I'll have you know, Professor Flitwick let us out early so we could get ready for break!" she huffed defiantly.

But her expression quickly brightened. "Are you excited for christmas?" she asked excitedly, as she fell into step with her sister "Dad said I could invite a boy over! And Sunny's coming to!"

Marianne pulled her robes tighter against the cold. "Well at least you'll have Sunny with you because I'm staying here this year." she replied.

"What?!" Dawn gasped "Marianne you can't skip christmas!"

Marianne had known this conversation was coming. "You think I honestly want to spend my holiday's sitting next to the Fafner's and having everyone tell me Roland and I were a good match and should be snogging again?"

Dawn paused and thought for a moment, a small frown forming. "Well...no I suppose not." she admitted, sighing "Though, it'll be lonely without my big sister!"

This made Marianne smile slightly. She may be an airhead at times, but Dawn was a sweet girl with good intentions. "Nah!" Marianne exclaimed playfully "You'll have Fredrick Kinnen or Jasper Tennings or, dare I say, the mysterious Marcus there to keep you company!"

Dawn stuck her tongue out in Marianne's direction. "I don't like any of _those_ boys anymore!" She teased "Besides, it's not the same!"

Marianne chuckled and put an arm around her little sister. "I know, honey dew." she sighed, a pang of guilt in her heart "But I just don't think I can deal with it right now."

Dawn's face changed at the use of the familiar nickname. She smiled warmly "Well at least I know you'll have more time to study and bring up that potions grade for your NEWTS!"

Marianne scowled. "Thank's for reminding me."

Dawn laughed as the two entered the Great Hall.


	2. Silent Night

Christmas was approaching fast. Before Marianne knew it, she had watched her sister and Sunny Ornthalas (her muggle born best friend), dash away for the Hogwarts express, ready for a few weeks of holiday cheer. She had been filled with a mixture of guilt and regret. Really, she didn't want to be away from her family, but, she knew it was for the best that she not bring them down. She couldn't believe it was only yesterday and she already felt as if Dawn had been away for a month, but, she figured, that's how loneliness worked.

The night was brisk as she made her way down the corridors, heading for the library. She wasn't sure she had any intention of studying, but at least there was a fire and she didn't have to look at the common room. It made her sick sometimes remembering how many days she'd sat in those squashy arm chairs, listening to Roland brag endlessly about one thing or another, nodding along and telling him how amazing he was. At least the library would be devoid of any memories since, well, she wasn't sure Roland even knew the castle _had_ a library.

Armed with a spare blanket, a few candles, and a few good books, she entered the sacred hall of learning. It was quiet and empty as she figured it would be. Most of the other students wouldn't be in the library even if they had also decided to remain over the holidays. Good. She wasn't ready to deal with most other people right now. She headed to her favorite spot: the extra comfy arm chair right underneath the big window near the fireplace. She had found solace in that spot many times over the past five years, studying or vexing next to the warm hearth while watching the leaves change or listening to the musical sounds of rain fall. It was comforting.

However, as she approached, she noticed that she actually was not as alone as she thought. Oh no. Someone happened to be seated in the exact place she had intended to be relaxing for the evening. His back was turned to her but she could see the clear green of Slytherin robes. "Oh, bloody hell, you're kidding me?" she groaned in a burst of emotions, not having meant to.

At her exclamation the boy raised his head and looked around. She realized she recognized him. She'd been paired with him in dueling club once. She didn't remember his name and, well frankly she wasn't sure if they ever introduced themselves. She did recall him being particularly good at the full body bind. But that mattered little at the moment. He locked eyes with her. "Maybe you haven't heard, but libraries are meant to be _quiet_." he hissed, his voice ladened with malice and draped in a scottish drawl.

Marianne's eyes narrowed, she wasn't one to be challenged. "Can you, I don't know, pick a different spot maybe?" she spat.

She knew she was being a bit immature and, frankly, rude, but she really needed some form of comfort at the moment and she wasn't going to let a Slytherin, of all people, take it from her. The boy's eyes had returned lazily to reading. "I've found this spot to be quite comfortable and since you have no actual possession over it and there is ample space to sit elsewhere, I think I'll stay where I am, thank you." he responded in a firm and final sounding tone.

Marianne blinked a few times, anger turning her face red. What gave him the right to be so clever? She opened her mouth to object further, but all she could manage was some sort of mixture between a grunt and groan. While she seemed to struggle with herself for a minute, the boy's eyes rose once again. He studied her for a moment before letting out a soft chuckle. This infuriated her further. Seething, she strode to the table one over from him, yanked the chair from underneath, and slammed the books down. Through the entire tantrum, the boy's gaze followed her. She sat stubbornly facing him, arms crossed, finally getting a good look at him.

He wasn't a very attractive young man. The first thing she noticed was his beaky nose. It was easily his largest and most eye catching feature. It curved downward, giving him an almost goblin like appearance. His mouth reminded her vaguely of a largemouth bass. It was an exaggeration, certainly, but the corners of his mouth did stretch slightly beyond what could be considered average length. Trail your gaze downward, you'll see a long chin that seemed to be dotted with small bumps and what appeared to be long thin scar lines, very clear against his sallow skin. He had thick dark eyebrows, one of which was in danger of disappearing into his hairline. His hair was passable, short and neatly swept back, however, it seemed dry and with a color that reminded her of dead leaves. The style also made his larger, slightly knifed ears appear even more prominently.

His only redeeming feature seemed to be his eyes. Despite his not so lovely face, she couldn't dismiss them. They were a bright arctic blue and, staring into them, Marianne could feel a strange electricity rocket through her nerves. She almost forgot her rage for a moment. But then, the boy spoke again. "It's humorous, you look like you could be a seventh year but I'm quite certain you can't be any older than twelve."

The sudden comment hit Marianne like someone had swung a sack full of bricks into her ego. "Excuse me?" she sputtered, her face reddening once more.

The boy's sly smile curled, revealing his uneven teeth. "You're throwing a fit simply because someone else is in a seat you desire." he pointed out "I can only assume your age matches your attitude."

The most annoying thing to Marianne was that, well, he wasn't exactly wrong. She probably could have asked him nicely and he may have had a very different response. But, all the same, she wasn't about to sit there and let him talk like that to her. "That's funny because you don't look like you should still be in school but rather in a grave somewhere. How many times did you have to repeat your O.W.L.S.?"

It was a pretty low blow, she knew. Honestly, she was in too deep and all she could do was throw wild punches. The boy sighed and closed the book he had been trying to read. "If the stupid spot means enough to you to be so insulting, fine, take it."

He stood abruptly and Marianne felt an instant wave of regret wash over her. "Ah...wait don't do that." she groaned.

The boy eyed her suspiciously. "I'm sorry, you want me to sit here and be mistreated when I have clearly done nothing?" he asked, his voice cutting.

"That's...sorry alright." She mumbled, casting her gaze to the wall near by.

The boy's brow furrowed. He wasn't sure he really cared to spend his evening being patronized or yelled at by a boisterous Gryffindor out to pick a fight. Considering he usually couldn't be bothered to deal with people who he actually liked, it seemed taxing to put up with a stranger. He supposed he could do worse. Red face aside, she was rather pretty. Her messy soil hair splayed wildly, sweeping mostly to her left. She had a soft and smooth complexion, unlike his own. Her nose was small and her lips were quite full and painted with a light shade of violet. But the thing he most noticed, besides, arguably, her rosey cheeks, had to be those eyes. Ringed in tints of purple, they were a piercing, sharp honey color and filled with defiance. All at once, he realized he'd seen her before. "Have...have we met?" he questioned, almost sure they had to have.

She met his eyes again. Ah, so he also remembered. "I think we were partnered in dueling class once." She admitted sheepishly.

"Ah yes." He seemed to remember "You hit me with incarcerous. I had rope burns for a week!"

"Uh yeah, sorry about that." she apologized again "I saw the jelly legs curse you cast before and wasn't taking any chances."

The boy's mouth twitched into a grin at the compliment. "Your name was...Lafayette, wasn't it?"

Now she felt like an ass. He had managed to at least remember her last name and she couldn't be bothered with his. "Uh yeah. Marianne Lafayette." she informed him, hoping he wouldn't realize or care she hadn't managed to retain his name.

"Fidius Bog." he introduced, seeming not to care she hadn't.

He'd started to return to the arm chair once more but stopped and turned. "If you really want the chair, you can have it."

Marianne's face had turned red yet again, but not from anger. Shame at the fact that even a Slytherin had more common decency then her. "Uh...thank you."

She took the offer and traded him seats. She had expected him to leave for a different part of the library, but he took the less comfortable chair and settled back in. Marianne sat in the familiar chair and felt comfort seep slowly into her. "Sorry I bothered you." She offered to Bog, but he raised a hand.

"You probably had your reasons." he put simply "Most students don't stay over the holiday's unless they have a pretty damn good reason not to be home."

She couldn't argue that. All the same, she had acted like a child. "Still no excuse for me being a royal git."

Fidius had opened his book again and hadn't looked up, but he was grinning again "Yes, well, I don't consider most Gryffindor's the paragon of composer." he teased, seeming to be relaxed again.

"Well I didn't expect to find a Slytherin remotely agreeable." she countered, starting to feel comfortable herself.

His eyes stop scanning the lines of text for a moment. "I suppose that's fair."

Marianne watched him continue through the pages. The book he was holding was bound in black leather. Gold leafing curled the front cover to create the title which red "A Midsummer Night's Dream." She didn't recognize the title. "Uh...what are you reading?" she asked.

Fidius turned the book around to glance at the title. One of his eyebrows started raising again. "You've never heard of William Shakespeare?" he returned, sounding skeptical.

She could feel her cheeks become hot once more. "Is it some kind of muggle fiction?" she shot back "Because I grew up pretty strictly wizard."

Fidius' mouth thinned. "He was a classic playwright." he said matter-of-factly "Romeo and Juliet? Julius Ceaser? Macbeth?"

None of these were ringing a bell. I mean, sure, wizards read muggle works, but she didn't usually do a lot of reading to begin with. She shook her head. Fidius sighed. "It's a comedy where, put simply, because of a mischievous fairy named Puck, everyone falls in love with the wrong person and they have to correct it."

Marianne wrinkled her nose. "What's so funny about love?" she mumbled.

Fidius heard her and the grin returned. "Foolish, isn't it?" he agreed "People throwing themselves at someone. Acting like gits to try and impress each other. That's the real comedy."

This was a welcome surprise. The one person who also decided not to have happy family time and stuck around seems to be as disgusted with the idea of puppy love as she was. "Your cynicism is refreshing." she chuckled "Everyone else around here seems to be unable to keep their hands off each other."

Fidius closed the book sharply with a dramatic scowl. "Love sick fools!" he spat "Walking around in a daze, humming."

"And dancing." Marianne added with a note of disgust.

"Giggling like children."

"Don't forget the pet names."

The throaty growl that escaped the boy sounded almost like a hound. "Absolutely ghastly. Never in any conceivable state of mind could I imagine myself wanting to be called something as idiotic as 'sugar pie' or 'honey bunch'."

Marianne laughed. "You mean, you don't like the sound of 'Bogey bear' or 'fiddy boo'?"

She saw a shiver shot through his spine. "Don't."

Marianne grinned slyly. "Not even 'my little pumpkin pasty'? Really? I thought that one was a winner with the guys. I must be out of touch with the times."

Fidius was clearly fighting back both vomit and laughter. "I like it about as much as you'd probably like hearing 'Buttercup'." he shot, thinking he'd gain a favorable snicker.

However, that one hit a little close to home. Marianne's smile instantly fell. That had been Roland's prefered name for her, forgoing her actual name for it more often then she would have liked. When she didn't respond, Fidius realized he had said something he ought not to have. "Sorry...I didn't mean to…"

Marianne waved it off. "Nah, don't worry about it." she tried to play cool "I was just stunned by how stupid people are to call each other that."

She was lying and not convincingly, but Bog was not one to push things. He knew people had their secrets. He decided to play along. "The whole notion is one gigantic mess, if you ask me."

The two sat in a bit of an awkward silence. Marianne cleared her throat and started to unfold the blanket. It may have been warm in the library but it was never warm enough for Marianne. Bog noticed this and couldn't help but ask "Bit warm for a blanket, isn't it?"

Glad that he'd spoken first, she shrugged. "I don't know why, but I can never really get warm."

She could see Bog's curious expression growing. "My dad told me I might have been hit with a stray freezing charm or something when I was little." She elaborated, not caring to really speak on it much further.

Bog couldn't help but smile. "I suppose it could be plausible. I've heard of spells having lasting effects like that."

Marianne was settling in. "That's why I like the spot closest to the fire but so I can still look out the window."

Bog seemed to appreciate the comment. "I'm quite fond of that spot myself." he said, finally returning back to his reading. "It's a good place to think."

Marianne smiled. Somehow, this conversation had turned out to be more comforting than original plan of brooding by the window. She reached for one of the books in her bag and produced a small green bound one that looked very worn. It was a small book of poetry from a wizard name Glenda Gildenharth. Each line was about the strength and empowerment. Her mother had read her these when she was young and, when she died, Marianne would often read them when she needed a lift.

Before she cracked it open, she took a last look at Bog. "You sure you don't mind me being here?" she asked, a small bit of timidity in her voice.

He glanced momentarily from his engrossed reading. "As long as you aren't one of those people that feels the need to react loudly." He sighed, reaching into his bag.

He pulled a box of cauldron cakes and placed them on the table. He flipped it open with one hand and removed one still not pausing in his novel. "Would you like one?"

Marianne perked up. "Yeah, thanks!" she responded.

She reached for one and plucked it out of the box. Now she was truly ready for some reading. She settled back into the chair, her legs tucked beneath her, placed the pastry in her mouth, and let the book fall open on her lap.


	3. Blue Christmas

"Lafayette. Hey, Lafayette!"

Marianne made a groaning noise and shifted. "Five more minutes Dawn…" she grumbled, snuggling her face deeper into the crook of her arm.

The library was quiet. The only sound was the soft crackling of the waning flames in the fireplace. That and a painful, nagging voice. "Get up, you mangy git."

Marianne begrudgingly raised her head. She cracked her eyes open just enough to glower in the direction of her insulter. Through her narrowed eyes, the outline of a very disgruntled and somewhat pissed Fidius was assaulting her vision. His hands were on his hips and he was scowling. "Wha's your problem, mate?" she yawned, stiffness aching in her neck.

Bog shook his head. "Honestly." he sighed, reaching up to scratch his neck.

Since their first accidental meeting a week prior, Marianne and Fidius had found themselves together more often than they expected. They had discovered, aside from the teachers, a painfully gossipy Hufflepuff, and a very irritating Gryffindor boy with his Ravenclaw girlfriend, they were the only ones who'd remained for the holidays. Considering the others to be appalling company, Marianne had continued to try and seek solace in the library. Apparently, Bog was of a like mind in that respect. The two had settled into a routine of meeting there simply to sit and read. Every so often, one of them would make a comment about something. That the fire could use a few more logs, how good a nice pheasant stew sounded about now, that the snow seemed to be letting up. But they mostly just took turns sitting in the comfy chair and red their books in silence.

Last night, Bog had brought up the idea of trading, for some fresh reading. Marianne was a little apprehensive since it was her mother's, but Bog didn't seem to be the kind of person to mistreat a novel and she was curious about his. The two swapped and Bog had said he would start it the next day. Marianne stayed in the library after he had left and began immediately but she never got past the first page. She had spent an hour trying to understand the language the writer had tried to use and eventually she tired herself out. At least, she must have since she was being very rudely awoken by someone who couldn't have otherwise.

Marianne extended her arms, stretching her sore muscles. "That's the last time I sleep in the library." she groaned, feeling the small cracks as her bones moved for the first time in hours.

"You should have just gone back to your common room." Bog tossed casually.

Marianne stuck her tongue out playfully. "No way! And miss out on the absolutely wonderful awakening you just gave me? Fat chance!"

She watched those blue orbs roll, but the corners of his mouth twitched. "You're lucky I realized I left your book here." he commented, holding it up.

"Gee, my hero." she mocked, scruffing her hair and letting out another yawn.

Another sigh escaped the Slytherin youth. "Well, get up then. Breakfast is being served. Unless you'd rather miss it."

At the idea of a warm meal, Marianne perked up almost instantly. "Like I'd miss breakfast!" she said as she gathered up her things and began stuffing them into her bag hurriedly.

Bog waited as she finished and latched the strap. "Come on then." he pretended to whine, but he seemed happy for the company.

Once Marianne had slung her pack over her shoulder, the two began towards the great hall. The gryffindor realized she had never stood next to the boy before. He was a good head or so taller than she. She supposed he'd be even taller if he didn't seem to have a slight hunch. He was also very lanky. His shoulders were broad and his chest was prominent, but his arms and legs were very thin. He walked almost as if he should be carrying a staff or something, but his hands were instead thrust into his pockets. It gave him a bit of a menacing look.

She also hadn't seen him in daylight. Away from the harsh flickering flame lights, his skin seemed much healthier. The bumps and scars were much less noticeable. She found him to be just a tad less unattractive than she had originally thought. "Is there something on my face?"

Marianne hadn't realized she was staring. Shaking her head swiftly, she removed her gaze. "Just that large nose of yours is all."

To her surprise, Bog grinned. "Ah, back to the insults are we?" he chuckled.

Marianne shrugged. "You asked what was on your face, I answered honestly." she was fighting a playful smile, "and that's the biggest part on it."

Bog's smile didn't fade, but he changed subjects. "So, I take it you started reading the book?"

Marianne scowled playfully. "Don't change the subject! I wasn't finished talking about your nose! There's just so much to say...probably because there's so much there!"

"Watch it." He shot her a warning glance, his smile fading somewhat.

She knew better than to keep pushing it. Bog was her only ally against the noisy Hufflepuff and the nauseating love birds. If she lost his company, it was gonna be a long two weeks. "Well, I made a pretty valiant effort." she admitted, sounding pretty defeated "I don't know how you can get what's going on! The writing is so…"

"Intelligent?" Bog offered, a note of condescension revealing itself in his voice.

Marianne glowered at him. "I was going to say pompous. What the bloody hell is a nosegay?"

Bog couldn't hold back a bought of mirth. "You're serious?" he laughed, unaware that it was actually a common query.

The red started to raise in Marianne's cheeks. "Of course I'm serious!" she blurted in indignation "Most people don't walk around saying 'thou hast' and sounding like lunatics! It's a fair question!"

The laughter had stopped, but the gangly man was still smirking. "Though she be but little, she be fierce!" he remarked, quoting the very book she was complaining about.

Of course, she didn't know that. "Who are you calling little? You're taller than the bloody astronomy tower, of course I seem small!"

This made Bog laugh once again. He had to stop walking for a moment. He wasn't sure what made him find it so amusing. Maybe it was the way she got worked up. Her cheeks become a soft rose, her thin brows knitted together and her lush lips pursed. Maybe it was the way her golden eyes flashed with fire. His laughter slowed and he realized he had locked stares with her. He straightened slightly and cleared his throat. His next footsteps were much longer than the last and Marianne almost had to skip to catch up. "Well are you gonna answer my question?" she challenged, falling into step once more.

"What question?" Bog returned, still composing himself somewhat.

Marianne groaned. "Nosegays. What are they?"

Remembering, Fidius smiled slightly. "The word refers to a small bouquet of sweet smelling flowers." he replied, hands finding their way into his pockets once more.

The scowl had returned to Marianne's face. "Then why didn't he just say flowers? Did people honestly talk like this?"

"You know," Bog found himself offering before he realized what he was saying "I can always read it to you and translate it a bit. Or you can at least read it while I'm there so you can ask me what stuff means."

Marianne was a little stunned by the generous offer. She could see his eyes widen slightly after he suggested it. His hands seemed to tense up in his pockets. He really must not have been very good with people. "Hmm, that might not be too bad." she noted, "Alright, you can be my translator then!"

Thankfully for Fidius, they rounded a corner and she hadn't been looking to see his face turn a slight shade of pink. The double doors to the great hall were just ahead. But something near by caused both to slow their pace. "Merlin's beard." Bog groaned.

Just in front of the double doors, the annoying couple stood. They had decided it was the absolute best place to try and suck each others faces off. Marianne let out a very audible retching noise. The couple stopped trying to eat each other long enough to glare at them. This angered the hot headed gryffindor. "Oi! Whatcha glarin at us for?" she barked "You're the one's snoggin in public!"

The girl looked a bit ashamed, but the boy's stare seemed to get colder. "Don't listen to the mean girl, buttercup. She's just mad that her boyfriend is a gnarled old wanker."

Bog made a small 'tch.' "Better a gnarled old wanker then a cheeky little plonker, aye?" he shot back "Now take your trollop and bugger off, would you?"

The girl gasped at the insult. The boy pulled her into him, looking at the pair with contempt. "How dare you?" he hissed, his eyes narrowing in Fidius' direction "Isabella is not a trollop!"

A wand was drawn from the boys robe sleeve. Marianne immediately reached for hers but Bog had already stepped forward. "I wouldn't do that." He challenged, his wand already held high "Unless, that is, you wanna spend your christmas in the hospital wing."

The boy drew back slightly. Marianne was somewhat impressed. It was as if the wand's presence had changed the Slytherin man. He was suddenly standing a good half a head taller, his shoulders no longer hunched. He looked a much prouder and confident man then he had just moments ago. She couldn't stifle a small grin. "What on earth is going on here?!"

Four pairs of eyes shot to the double doors. There, shrouded in a periwinkle robe, stood Madam Arethusa. She was the healer Hogwarts had hired when the former, Madame Pomfrey, had decided to retire. A young twenty years of age, she was one of the most accomplished potion makers Hogwarts had produced in at least a decade. She stood only a bit taller than Marianne, but with a much more feminine grace as her hands fluttered to a rest on either side of the doorway and her hip cocked. Her long blonde tresses bounced lightly, spilling from beneath her tall, wide brim hat. It was slightly crooked and intricate, royal blue design snaked around it. She was looking between the students with pursed lips and a raised brow.

"Well?" she piped in a rather cheery voice for someone who was supposed to be upset "Anyone want to defend themselves or should I just fetch someone who can deduct points?"

The madam's eyes suddenly shot to Fidius. Her arms flew to her hips. "I should have known."

Marianne looked at Bog in time to see him grimace. The Madame let out a long sigh. "Drop your wands, all of you." she snapped sharply "You can impress your girlfriend's in some other way. I won't have any dueling!"

Bog glowered at her. "I'm not trying to impress anyone, Madame." he hissed, his arm not dropping "We asked them to cease their disgusting displays of public affection and he drew his wand. I was simply defending myself."

Madame Arethusa rolled her eyes. "Oh I'm _so sure_ you're _completely_ innocent, Fidius." sarcasm dripping from her lips "That's why you're nineteen and still in school right?"

Marianne watched his expression twist from minor frustration to outright rage. "Are you daft?" he seethed, finally letting his wand drop "You realize you can't talk to me like that anymore, not now that you're employed here."

"Tsk, Tsk, Bog." She mocked "You always did have quite the temper."

His face had turned red. Marianne couldn't tell if it was from rage or embarrassment. She felt a defensive urge raising in her. Before she knew it, she was speaking. "Look, we'll leave them alone as long as you tell them to knock of the face eating, alright?" she blurted.

Madame Arethusa studied Marianne for a moment. "Well, I don't see what they've done wrong. You could simply, ignore them. You remember what ignoring people is, don't you Bog?"

"Don't."

Bog had begun to tremble slightly. Marianne was a bit repulsed by the nurses behavior but she was more worried about the strange look that had found it's way to Fidius' face. It looked as if he might lunge on Arethusa, or possibly burst into tears. Instinctively, Marianne grabbed his arm. He seemed to freeze. "Come on, Bog." she muttered to him "Let's go for a walk and get away from these tossers. I think I lost my appetite anyway."

Reluctantly, the Slytherin boy nodded and allowed Marianne to pull him away.


	4. Baby, It's Cold Outside

Once the two had retreated a past the front doors of the castle and made it to the banks of the frozen lake, Marianne let go of Bog's arm. The moment her grip released, he shot past her. She watched as he progressed, hands forced back into his pockets, to the nearest tree. He simply stood in front of it for a moment, staring blankly. But then, all at once, his wand was out and he yelled "Diffindo!" pointing it at the poor things trunk.

A loud crack echoed through the open field as a large chunk of bark and wood flew aside. His breathing was heavy and she could see him tremble. It took a moment for Marianne to summon the courage to speak up. "Are...are you alright?"

At the sound of the question, Bog swung his foot violently at the tree. "No, I am not actually." he hissed.

But after a moment, he sighed. His wand arm dropped to his side and his body seemed to slump. Marianne couldn't help but look a little pained by whatever was bothering him. She searched for anyway she could comfort him. "Look, uh." she started, scratching her arm in a somewhat nervous manner "You don't have to talk about it or anything, well, unless you want to. You really don't have to, I mean…"

She was getting flustered. She didn't want to force him to do anything, she just wanted him to cheer up. Fidius had turned around and was looking curiously at her. "Just uh," she was stumbling over herself "Just...oh bugger. Whichever one is the one that makes you stop looking like a sad lump, alright?"

She could feel her cheeks growing hot yet again. Usually, Marianne was pretty straight forward. She didn't care if she offended anyone because she was being honest, and, well, honesty was the best policy, right? If someone asked her opinion, she'd say it. She spent so much time worrying and trying to make Roland like her, the moment he had broke her heart, she stopped all together. Yet, here she was, standing in the snow out with this sullen boy, doing her best not to upset him even further.

Bog didn't smile, but his expression softened a bit. He reached up with his empty hand to scratch his head. "You really don't want to know why I'm nineteen and still in my sixth year?" he asked, his voice wavering slightly.

"Well, sure I'm curious." she admitted plainly "But if you don't want to talk about it, it's none of my business. I'm sure you have your reasons."

There went his eyebrow, attempting to find its way into his hairline. Marianne was starting to feel uncomfortable. His eyes had a way of seeing straight through you. She could feel a slight tremble raise in her body. She was doing her best not to break eye contact. Fidius looked suddenly concerned. In one swift motion, he slipped his robe off.

The girl looked fearful and took an awkward step back. "Hey, woah there mate!" she sputtered in her confusion.

But Bog had strode forward. All at once, he reached around her, whirling the robe. It came to a rest on her shoulders, his hands pulling it forward to cover her. Instantly, Marianne felt warmth crawl into her body. The trembling began to weaken. In the rush of the moment, she had forgotten it was winter and that it would be below freezing outside. Instinctively, she reached up and pulled the robe around her.

She looked up with the intention of thanking him, but, as her eyes trailed upward, she felt her words catch. When had he gotten so close? She was eye level with his collar bones, seeing every breath he took in the rise and fall of his chest. His neck, where his adam's apple quivered with every sharp swallow. His lips, thin and pale, but soft and inviting as they parted slightly to draw air. Then, there they were. The cold air was not what made a shiver shoot through Marianne this time, but instead, the chilling azure of Fiduis Bog's gentle gaze. She felt something thud hard against her rib cage.

She felt her mouth starting to slack. Quickly, she ground her teeth, forcing a small amount of composure. "Why on earth did you lead us out here?" Bog finally asked, concern still etched in the small lines around his eyes "Don't you have some kind of thing with the cold?"

She flushed slightly. "I, well…" she floundered "I was trying to put as much distance between us and that cock up of a group."

She jabbed a thumb quickly over her shoulder. "I guess I figured they weren't gonna follow us out here or something." she continued, sheepishly.

Boy, she sounded like a right duffer. She cocked a slight smile, trying to mask her shame. "Worked though, aye?"

Fidius continued to stare for a moment. Why on earth was this girl putting in so much effort? She was standing here, practically freezing to death, trying to cheer up someone she hardly knew. He couldn't help but feel a little flattered by the gesture, even if she was just being kind. "I suppose it did." he breathed, letting go of her shoulders.

He ran his fingers through his hair, before letting out a long sigh. "Well, if we aren't going back to the great hall, we might as well whole up in the library."

Marianne frowned slightly. "What about breakfast?" she whined slightly.

She really was hungry. So much so, the moment the words left her lips, her stomach growled loud enough for Bog to hear. A moment passed. A low snort escaped from the Slytherin and, within seconds, a large, toothy grin plastered itself across his face. Marianne pouted slightly at the boy's sardonic expression, but she couldn't hold it for long. She felt herself smiling. Somehow, even if it wasn't a very attractive one, his grin was infectious to her. Maybe it was the way it seemed to light up the space around them. "Not to worry!" he assured "I have provisions to last us till lunch."

He patted his school bag, his grin widening. "Well, what are we waiting for then? It's bloody freezing!" she shivered, and grabbed him by the sleeve "Come on then!"

Bog felt the tug pull him forward as the smaller girl yanked him toward the steps to the castle. He really wasn't sure why he felt so content. Maybe it was the fact that someone, other than his mother, had not only tolerated but willingly spent time in the same room as him for more than five minutes. Maybe it was the relief that someone did so without needing to hear every single detail of his life. Maybe it was the fact that this same person also happened to have incredibly pretty eyes.

Whatever it was, Fidius was pleased to have this stalky gryffindor dragging him about the castle. And he had no intention of changing the arrangement anytime soon.


	5. Last Christmas

The days till christmas had begun to dwindle. Marianne had stopped counting down. She wasn't sure she even cared at this point. She and Fidius had stopped waiting until the evenings to meet. She had seen him at breakfast and got up the nerve to sit with him at the Slytherin table. Not like house tables mattered with so few students there, but Bog had still been shocked by the action. However, he seemed cheery about it, after, of course, making as many jokes and stabs as he could fit in before Marianne told him to shut up.

They started to spend most of their time together after that. Eating meals together, barricading themselves into the library so Fidius could laugh at Marianne's slow and frustrating progression through A Midsummer Night's Dream, one or two "daring" explorations of the castle that Marianne insisted they go on, claiming Bog would shrivel away into dust if he sat on his bum all the time. The two seemed to have become inseparable, seemingly forgetful that this break was swiftly approaching its expiration.

Marianne had leapt from bed the moment she opened her eyes. She didn't realize it was the day before christmas eve. To her, this was going to be another lovely day of criticizing the love sick fools over breakfast, adventures through the corridors, and listening to that scottish cackle the filled her with both resentment and warmth.

She was dressed and clean so quickly, the sun had only just risen above the treetops. She knew Fidius would be there, he always was. She was fairly certain he was awake before even the birds. Although Marianne was normally not a morning person and certainly not one to be properly functioning before eight o'clock, she found meeting her friend was all the reason she needed to be bright eyed and bushy tailed.

The Great Hall was fairly empty. Of course, the garish christmas trees and tinsel strewn the place, her only reminder of the impending "cheer." She hardly paid the tiny floating lights and glittering baubles any mind. Her gaze had snapped immediately to the far side of the hall where the Slytherin table was located. A small smile formed on her unknowingly red face.

He was there, as usual. Bog was leaning forward on his elbows, one hand holding a spoon filled with egg, the other clutching the book of poetry she'd lent him when they had traded so many days earlier. He was much more focused on the text then the food. She was fairly sure it had been sitting on the end of that spoon for at least a good five minutes. She chuckled, watching his eyes slide across the lines on the page, his eyebrows furrowed in his concentration.

Marianne made her way over to the long benches. Without saying anything, she seated herself next to him and began filling her plate with various foods. Bog didn't seem to notice her arrival. He usually didn't. Marianne found it quite amusing. After she'd finished loading up on plenty of Bacon, sausage, and cut potatos, she cleared her throat loudly. Bog lurched forward in surprise, the forgotten eggs flying off his spoon to land on the table. His neck snapped his stare to meet her mischevious grin. He groaned loudly, his muscles slowly relaxing. "Must you do that every morning, Lafayette?" he moaned in anguish, dropping his spoon and raising his hand to his brow.

"As long as you keep falling for it!" she laughed.

And he did. Every single time. After briefly rubbing his forehead, Fidius dropped his hand to reclaim his spoon and a new portion of egg. "I suppose I really should get you a cowbell then." he quipped, his eyes returning to the book in his hand.

"Oh lighten up, Bog!" she chirped "I can't help that you're an easy target!"

He rolled his eyes as she shovelled a large helping of the messy mixture on her plate into her mouth. This was much how the past few mornings had gone. Although Bog seemed angered by it, he actually wouldn't have it any other way. He intentionally woke up early just so he could make it to the hall before she did so they could continue this routine every day. It had been a long time since the older boy had felt so relaxed with someone that he was unintentionally going out of his way to keep things this way. He really never went to great lengths to do much of anything, accept avoid human contact normally, so the fact that he was actually trying was confusing to him. But so far, things had been favorable, so he wasn't complaining.

After a few minutes of listening to Marianne stuff her face, Bog spoke up. "You know, the bacon doesn't have legs and isn't going to get up and walk away if you would happen to slow down."

Marianne hadn't realized she was being a bit of a pig. She slowly swallowed what was in her mouth. "Er, sorry." she apologized, feeling a bit ashamed.

Bog's eyes flicked to her, his head turning. "What? No smarmy comeback about how your more worried about the sausage?" he asked in bewilderment.

She straightened up slightly. "I'm not fully awake yet." she lied, pretending to seem indignent "The apologize was a fluke, it won't happen again."

Bog chuckled and went back to the book, actually taking a bite of his eggs. Marianne hadn't wanted to admit she was becoming more and more self conscious of her actions around him. His playful insults didn't offend her, per say, but she started to worry that he found some of her behaviors repulsive. For some reason, that was the exact opposite of how she wanted him to think of her.

She didn't have long to dwell. The soft screech of an owl echoed in the vast hall. Both Marianne and Bog looked up. Marianne recognized her own tawny descending toward the table, an envelope clutched in it's beak. "Oh, no." she groaned, realizing the letter was bound to be from her father.

Bog also made a disapproving noise as a grey screech owl landed in front of his place, a grubby looking package tied to it's talon. Marianne greeted her pet, whom she had named Athena, kindly and with a small piece of toast. The owl nibbled it gratefully as Marianne reluctantly opened the letter.

She had been right. It was from her father. It was an elegantly written note that had a picture attached. She ignored the photograph for a moment in favor of the written words.

 _Dearest Marianne,_

 _We were so disappointed to hear you wouldn't be with us for the holidays. Dawn said you felt you would only burden our spirits. But I will respect your decision as I'm sure you are spending your time wisely in study._

 _I wanted to at least wish you a happy christmas from Dawn, Sunny, and myself. Know you are greatly missed. The Fafner's also send their regards and well wishes. Roland seems especially displeased you were not present this year. I'm not sure what happened between you two, but you really should give the boy another chance._

 _Best wishes my dearest rosebud,_

 _Oberon Lafayette_

Marianne could hardly look at the picture. She knew she was going to see that smug bastard's face, batting his eyelashes and fussing with his bangs. She felt her shoulders begin to tremble as the anger of her father's audacity and the bitterness of knowing she couldn't be there with her family because of _him_. Knowing she still couldn't look him in the eye without feeling every ounce of pain she'd endured the day she'd seen him committing his infidelities.

She didn't realize she had crushed the paper in her fist until she felt a hand grasp it. She looked over to see that Bog had finished going through his own mail and seen her discomfort. Distress lined his face and his eyes seemed filled with worry. "Marianne, what is it?"

His voice was low and gentle. Genuine concern in his earnest question. This should have easily melted Marianne's anxiety, but the memories of her plight had an extra sting, considering she hadn't realized until she had read his name that it was, in fact, the anniversary of her heartbreak. She stood up abruptly, making Bog release her hand in surprise. "I'm sorry but I should go." She blurted out "Today's not really a good day for me."

She didn't even give him a second glance before turning and rushing out of the great hall. "Marianne! Wait!" Fidius called after her, but to no avail.

She had already gone. What on earth could have set her off like that? He leaned back slightly, perplexed. As he did, he noticed she had dropped the letter. Now, Bog wasn't normally the kind of person to invade people's privacy. He himself was a very private person and valued his secrets. But he was, for once, genuinely worried for his new friend. Against his better judgment, he scooped up the crumpled note. Smoothing it on the table, he scanned it quickly.

As he reached the line imploring Marianne to give this Roland fellow a second chance, he felt his heart drop. Had Marianne been hurt by this boy? Was he the reason she had stayed in the castle for the holidays instead of spending it with her family? The reason she'd been stuck here with him? He felt a rage brewing inside him. If he found out this boy had been the cause of that heartbroken look he'd just seen on her face, he'd personally escort the him to the hospital wing, or, well, what was left of him after a Bumbarda curse or two.

But he'd save that rage for later. Right now, he had to find Marianne. He knew the pain she was feeling all too well. He knew he had to do something to try and make her smile again. That's what he had grown to like best about his sweet and feisty friend. The beautiful way she could warm his heart with her smile.

And he'd destroy anyone who took that away from her.


End file.
